


You'll Always Be My Brother

by Broken_Record_3



Category: All the Wrong Questions - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Gen, Parent Death, spoiler: mr. bellerophon dies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:13:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28706478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Broken_Record_3/pseuds/Broken_Record_3
Summary: Pip can never catch a break.A series of stories about Pip & Squeak, told through Pip's memory.
Relationships: Pecuchet "Pip" Bellerophon & Bouvard "Squeak" Bellerophon
Comments: 5
Kudos: 5





	You'll Always Be My Brother

Pip’s first memory was when he was three. 

He was in the backseat of his father’s taxi, wrapped in blankets and laying on his back. It was dark outside other than a few street lights that cast long orange light along the road. The radio was on, but he didn’t understand what the people on it were saying. Everything felt so oddly comforting, like a dream. 

That was the only memory without his brother. Squeak had been there his whole life it seemed, always there in one way or another. 

There were about two more memories before it all went wrong. The first one was holding Squeak when he was only a tiny baby, on the couch next to his father. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“He makes silly noises,” Pip had said. And Squeak had made silly noises, the silly noises that all small babies make. 

“Do you think he’s trying to name himself? Maybe he wants to be called Squeak.” his father said, laughing. 

“If he can be called Squeak, what can I be called? I want a special name, like him.” 

“Hmmmm..” his father thought. “How about Pip? You two can be pipsqueak because you’re both little.” 

Pip nodded and smiled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The second memory was at the park.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The swing was the best part of the park, Pip thought. It made you feel like you were flying, flying away from everything and far into the sky. He could look out at the sea from up here, it seemed to last forever and ever. Maybe he could even see The City if he looked close enough. 

His father was pushing him, like always did. He was so good at it, he always pushed just hard enough but not so hard Pip fell off. He was doing an extra good job of it today. 

He was flying, soaring through the sky. 

He was flying until he wasn’t. 

Suddenly, the ground was coming closer and closer, it was pummeling toward him and he couldn’t stop it and- 

Thump. He was on the ground now, staring at the gravel. He didn’t feel anything, it was like a dream. 

Now his father was there too, picking him up. Now he was sitting. And now it hurt. All of him stung, and there was blood on his palms. He was crying too, mostly of the pain but a little bit because of the shock.

“There, there. It’s all okay.” his father was saying, patting Pip’s hair and setting him down on a bench. 

“It’s okay, you’re gonna be okay. I promise.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And then it all went wrong. He had to be about five and a half when his father fell ill, and Squeak was only a bit over two. 

It was just a cold, he had said. Just a bad cold. 

A cold that lasted for months, one that left him bedridden and coughing every other word. 

Yeah right. A cold.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pip walked into his father's room, making sure to wipe the dirt off his shirt. His father didn’t need to see that he had been messing around outside, he had much bigger things to worry about. 

Mr. Bellerophon was sitting in bed, propped up by a few pillows, half under the blanket. He smiled when he saw Pip, but it was clear he hadn’t been smiling before. There were a few half-empty glasses of water on the side table, next to a box of tissues. 

“Hi, Dad,” Pip said, walking over to his father. He sat on the foot of the bed. His feet didn’t reach the floor, so he swung them back and forth. His father laughed a little and smiled a bit more.

“Pass me a tissue, please.” Mr. Bellerophon asked. His voice was weak. All of him was weak, really. It had been for months. He kept insisting he just had a cold, but Pip knew deep down it had to be something worse. 

Pip did as he wished, jumping off the bed to grab a tissue from the box. It was a simple cardboard box, with a logo of a cat on the side. Pip didn’t know what a cat had to do with tissues, but it sure was a cute cat. He picked a tissue out and handed it to his father. 

“Thank you, Pecuchet.” Mr. Bellerophon replied. Pip liked the way his dad said his name. He had asked his dad once, and he said it was French. He had also explained that he himself was from France, and he would take Pip and Squeak one day. Pip thought France sounded like lots of fun. 

Pip nodded and went back to his spot at the foot of the bed. 

His father coughed into the tissue, a cough that sounded almost unnatural. It sounded painful, and Pip didn’t like listening to it. 

Mr. Bellerophon dropped the tissue, but it missed the wastebasket. Immediately, Pip could see why the cough sounded so painful. 

Blood. There was blood in the tissue, terrible red blood spread inside it. Pip didn’t know what to do other than yelp and look away from it. 

Mr. Bellerophon looked down, seemingly noticing just then that something was wrong. 

“Merde- I mean, uh, darn. Don’t say that first word.” Mr. Bellerophon said quickly. 

“Dad, what’s wrong, I know something’s wrong. You don’t do that when you have a cold, cough up blood like that.” 

Mr. Bellerophon sighed and looked around. “I knew I’d have to tell you this one day, but I didn’t think it would be this soon. Come over here.” he said, patting the empty space beside him. Pip walked over and sat down there. 

“I’ve told you I just have a cold, but that’s not the full truth. It was the truth at first, or at least I thought it was. But then it got worse, much worse. You’ve read books where people are very sick, right?” 

Pip nodded. 

“Well, that’s how I am right now. Sometimes people get very very sick, and that’s not anyone’s fault.” 

“But in my books, when someone gets sick, they- they-“ Pip couldn’t say it, couldn’t say that terrible word that meant everything would change forever. 

“Oh my god,” his father said, looking down. “I have to say it, I really do. But you’re so young, you shouldn’t hear it.” 

Pip put his hand on his father’s arm, to try to comfort him. It seemed to only make him more distressed. 

“Pecuchet, there’s a very good chance I’m going to- g-get better. Okay? I’ll get better and it’ll all be okay.” 

Pip nodded and took his hand off his dad’s arm. “Can I go now?” 

Mr. Bellerophon nodded. He looked like he wanted to say something more, but he couldn’t. 

Pip knew there was something else too, but he didn’t want to think about it. Maybe if he didn’t think about it, it wouldn’t happen.

**Author's Note:**

> this one is short, i'll make them long in the future. also i'm shit at ao3 so the formatting might be off lol.


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